


The Kiss

by Oneredshoe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 06:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13992489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oneredshoe/pseuds/Oneredshoe
Summary: Hermione has an itch her friends do not want her to scratch, but one summer night with the help of several martinis that itch becomes too much for her to resist.





	The Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:-**  
>  _I neither own nor earn anything from this story. Harry Potter and his world are the intellectual property of JK Rowling and associates._
> 
> ~~~***~~~
> 
> **A/N:-**  
>  _I wrote this small tale as a challenge from one of my betas, Golden Asp. We’d been having a discussion about passive vs active voice, and this was the result. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you to Golden Asp for betaing it._

* * *

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as soon as she saw him. It always did. Her chest tightened, her stomach curled with want and her pulse raced. What she wouldn’t give to know if those artistically drawn, aristocratic lips were as soft as they looked. He was an Adonis. It was pure and simple, but she sighed. He was also definitely off limits.

She glanced at Harry and Ron. They’d come to terms with Draco Malfoy and their mutual schoolyard transgressions, but Lucius was still persona non grata as far as they were concerned. No, if she wanted to keep her best friends, she should forget any notions she had about Lucius Malfoy.

However, tonight—the annual ministry summer ball—that seemed somehow more difficult than usual. Life had definitely moved on without her. Her friends were enjoying the evening with their wives without a care in the world. They had families and contentment now. What did she have? She had an itch she was forbidden to scratch, and it was starting to irk her.

It had been like this for longer than she cared to remember. They probably thought they knew better than her, and she wasn’t a very social person so she put up with it. She came alone, she watched alone, and she went home alone, all because she wanted something that her friends would disapprove off. She couldn’t bring herself to accept a wizard of their choosing, because it was not who she wanted.

Of course, the fact that her friends disapproved was not the only problem. Her chosen wizard was Witch Weekly’s most eligible bachelor since his divorce, and he could have anyone he wanted. What would he want with a boring bookworm?

Hermione ordered another martini and glanced at him further up the bar. Only, he wasn’t with anyone else. He was alone, just like her, and he looked just as stoically miserable as she did. She’d had several martinis, but she forced her hazy brain to think about whether she had seen him with anyone recently, and the answer her gin-soaked brain came up with was, no… no she hadn’t seen him with anyone.

This piece of information shocked her, and she slid a glance in his direction again. The apex of her thighs throbbed with heat as her libido soared into life. She wanted this man, regardless of their mutual history, and she was just drunk enough not to think about the consequences. Well, history was just that, history. It no longer had any bearing on anything, the man had been squeaky clean since the war; it was obvious he’d learnt his lesson.

Making a decision, she slid off her bar-stool and grasped the bar to steady herself a moment, her legs slightly uncoordinated. No doubt this was the gin too, but she set her course and resolutely marched to the other end of the bar.

He turned as he saw her coming, and she noted that even as she reached him and unceremoniously grabbed him by the lapels of his beautifully tailored coat there was only slight shock registering on his face.

“Hello, Lucius Malfoy,” she said. “I’ve wanted you for too long,” and her lips crashed into his.

To start with Hermione found the kiss irritatingly uncoordinated, and she growled in frustration, but she wasn’t giving up; she’d committed to this. Then she felt him relax—obviously his shock had worn off—he started to participate, and it was a revelation to her.

Hermione found that although she may have started the kiss, it only took him seconds to take control of it. She moaned at the feel of his lips on hers, and she revelled in the possessive jerk of his arm around her waist drawing her closer. Suddenly her mouth was being devoured by his, and she was in heaven. This was what she wanted, this was the most perfect kiss she’d ever received.

Her tongue battled with his as they explored one another’s mouths, and she melted against him. He tasted divine, and in the precious short seconds of their kiss she detected the bitterness of Firewhiskey, a spicy tobacco, as well as a flavour that was distinctly him mixed with something sweet like chocolate.

The world could have collapsed around her she wouldn’t have cared; she was kissing Lucius Malfoy, and she realised that she wanted to keep kissing him. Hell, she wanted him to take her here on this bar; she didn’t care who saw.

However, it abruptly ended with an, “Oi! What are you up to, you bastard!”

That voice had to be Ron. Hermione’s eyes opened and a sigh escaped her lips as she saw softness in Lucius’ eyes. However, this changed as they became aware of things, and his mercurial eyes turned sharp as they watched her.

“You appear to have been spotted in enemy territory, Miss Granger,” he told her genially, as he glanced over her shoulder before looking back at her. “I believe your friends may wish to collect you now,” his voice murmured, and he directed her gaze to the stone-faced Gryffindor horde that now surrounded them.

“Oh,” Hermione muttered, glancing guiltily behind her, and she suddenly seemed to come to her senses. Her hands were still fisted in the satin of his jacket lapels, and she looked down at them. She did not want to let him go, but even in her inebriated state she could literally feel the daggers in the glares behind her.

She patted his lapels, trying to smooth the creases out of them, and she looked up at him. “I’m not sorry that I kissed you,” she declared defiantly.

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Neither am I, my dear,” he replied, and the heat in his gaze almost burnt her alive.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“Hermione!” she heard behind her, and she grimaced. It was Harry this time.

“They’re looking pretty ugly, aren’t they?” she whispered to Lucius.

“Yes, I’m afraid they are,” he replied, chuckling darkly as he met the belligerent stares of several very wand-happy Gryffindors. “You best go with them,” he told her, and he picked up her hand. “Thank you,” and he kissed the hand he held.

Hermione swallowed and nodded her understanding. “Thank you too,” she murmured, and forced herself to take a resolute step backwards.

~~~***~~~

Instead of going to bed with her triumphant kiss as the most remembered part of her evening, she cried herself to sleep once Harry and Ron had finished berating her about what they considered her stupidity.

She woke the next morning, cold and alone, but then she saw an owl waiting on her window ledge. It was an owl she did not recognise, and despite the words of her friends, hope flared in her heart.

Running to her window she allowed it entry, and eagerly took the note. Opening it, she read:

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_My father-in-law is not the man he once was, and last night was the first time we’d seen any spark of life in him for a very long time._

_Draco and I are hosting a small luncheon gathering today, and we’d love for you to attend._

_Best regards  
Astoria Malfoy_

Hermione smiled. It was a lifeline. Draco and Astoria were throwing her a lifeline, and she made a decision. Accioing parchment and a quill she wrote a reply.

_Dear Astoria,_

_Thank you, I would very much like to attend._

_Best regards  
Hermione _

She watched the bird winging its way across the skies as it left, and Hermione realised that her life would never be the same, but really, what sort of friends did she have if they couldn’t accept her life choices without trying to bully her into thinking like them? They were going to have to lump this one. She needed to see if she could have a life with Lucius; it had been consuming her for far too long to be only a passing fancy.

~~~***~~~

Further instructions on time and location followed by owl later that morning, and Hermione duly arrived for lunch at the apparition spot suggested at the allotted time. She looked around after righting herself, and saw Lucius opening the gates for her.

She swallowed and a small smile settled on her face. “Hello,” she whispered.

He responded with a similar expression and held out his hand.

She closed the distance between them and stood before him.

“Hello,” he replied, pulling her inside by their joined hands. “Welcome to our manor.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes glued to his lips. Their kiss from last night had instantly soared out of her memory and was playing across the screen of her mind.

“Lucius,” she sighed.

She looked exquisite standing in front of him in her cream cotton dress with the caramel coloured buttons, and he heard her want and need as his name fell from her lips. How long had he wanted to hear that? In an instant he’d backed her up to the heavy iron gates, the symbol of their protection against the world, and his mouth was on hers. He had so many emotions where this witch was concerned, and he became lost in the feel of her.

His hands roamed over her soft curves as his mouth devoured hers. Theirs was going to be a hot and emotional relationship, and one that he hoped would last a very long time, because he didn’t think he would ever get enough of her.

He broke their kiss and his lips started down over her jaw to her neck. “So long I’ve wait for this,” he whispered huskily.

“Yes,” she told him. “Me too,” and her voice was raw and emotional, and her arms encircled his neck, holding him to her. “I want you,” she whispered.

“And I you,” and he pulled back enough to examine her face. “But we will do this properly.”

“Properly?” she questioned, her breathing coming in short pants.

He smiled. “Properly,” and he apparated them to the front steps of the manor. “We will have lunch with our family, and then… Well, then,” and he opened the front door. He ushered her inside. “I’m hoping that you may consent to staying with me.”

“Staying with you?” Hermione repeated, desperately trying to get her breathing under control. “For how long?”

He smiled, and stroked his curled finger over her cheek. “How about we just see how it goes for say… sixty or seventy year?”

“Sounds like an excellent plan,” Hermione replied, resting her head against his chest, and curling her arms around his waist. She smiled as she realised that she was being accepted without reserve.

 

 


End file.
